


Human Emotions

by Jofiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Castiel, Depressed Dean Winchester, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lovesick Dean Winchester, M/M, Mild Smut, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Castiel, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love (or so they thought)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jofiel/pseuds/Jofiel
Summary: Dean loves Castiel and he absolutely hates it and himself. What happens when it sounds like Cas is saying goodbye?





	Human Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello yes I am on a damn role and this is my third fic in three days. This story has many mentions of suicidal thoughts but no actions and if that makes you uncomfortable or more prone to suicidal thoughts and/or actions please be kind to yourself and leave! I will attempt fluff soon so you can come back for that! Also, the smut is minor in the story because the beginning is pretty much Dean jacking off while hating himself and loving Cas. Okay, have fun!

It was the same. The same every night, the same emotions in the same order, the same feelings and lusts and wants and hates. Dean lay on his bed, one leg hanging over the edge (he could kill the monster under the ed if it dared come at him), a thin film of sweat glittering across his chest and creased forehead. His head was tilted back in overwhelming ecstasy, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted slightly as he imagined it wasn't his hand this time and instead Cas' mouth. But it wasn't. It never was and probably never would be.

Regardless of his lack of hope, Dean moaned quietly as his thumb swiped over the head and azure eyes flashed through his mind. God, those damned eyes and the things they did to Dean. They brought him so fucking low, so close to rock-bottom. He'd do anything for them or the man they belonged to. Every night, he'd fight them, though. Dean would lay in bed and try to think of damn near anything other than their icy cold gaze that somehow made Dean's soul burn hotter and brighter than any other, but he had succumbed every time as he was now. He didn't even bother sleeping with clothes on anymore; he knew he couldn't resist the thoughts that crept like thieves through the night into his mind of the seductive angel.

He would give into the irresistible sin of the flesh (not that he gave a shit about the absent father God was and what he thought made a human worthy of heaven), yes, but then he'd hate himself for it. Dean's daddy didn't raise him to be like this, didn't raise him to be such filth, to feel these things, to lust for a man. John would beat him to a pulp without hesitation or any regards for the safety of his flesh and blood if he saw Dean now: a mess, sweating and panting and moaning for Castiel(again, a man)'s touch. And when he was done, when he came off of his high of endorphins Dean would feel the same way about himself that John might towards his son if John wasn't dead. Because even though Dean had been the one to set red hot, ever-consuming flames to his dad's body, John lived on through the fear in his oldest son's heart.

Dean would wallow in self-loathing until he fell asleep (pretty much cutting his precious four hours in half, but that's more than what he even deserved right? No amount of saved lives could make up for his sin), and the cycle repeated every single night. It was driving Dean insane, but what could he do? Lust and love made people crazy. Dean was only able to admit he felt both things for the fallen angel after a long, grueling night of drinking that had happened for the sole purpose of Dean getting over the former angel. That plan worked out really well.

Dean's strokes on his cock became sloppier; more urgent and desperate. He was close to the edge and Dean already knew what was to come. He'd finish, fall from his undeserved high, then sleep with a hopeless hate for himself burning and churning in the deepest part of his gut. Dean pushed the ugly thought away as he brought himself closer to that unholy edge, images of pink, chapped lips only pushing him further as an even pinker tongue danced and licked around them in his mind.

But then, a soft knock came from the door. An outlier in the data table of Dean's nights that seemed to be always the same, despite any circumstance. It caught the hunter off guard, and he covered himself up with the sheets and shifted so his knee was brought upwards, his foot flat on the bed, hiding the tent that would have been caused by Dean's erection had his upwards-bent leg not created a larger one sheltering it.

"Yeah?" Dean called, his voice husky with lust and lack of speaking versus the surplus of moaning. He cleared his throat in an attempt to eliminate said dripping ecstasy.

The door creaked opened without a reply to Dean's call, and in stumbled Castiel, much to Dean's surprise and embarrassment, considering the man's name was rolling off his tongue in moans just seconds ago. But, something was off... The way Castiel's hair was messier than usual, how his trench coat was ruffled and wrinkled and his figure slumped over with a certain cocktail of exhaustion only attainable if you hate yourself enough to either sleep way too much for lack of wanting to be conscious, or not at all, for days. Dean would know; he'd been on both ends of the spectrum.

Dean assumed Cas probably didn't quite know how to set a personal sleep schedule, considering he was newly human and he didn't quite understand how his body worked and how to properly care for it. But Cas seemed... tense. More so than usual.

"Cas?" Inquired Dean cautiously. "What's wrong, Cas?" Castiel's figure shook in an unnatural way as he let out a small, nearly silent, cry. "Castiel. Cas! Get over here, what the hell is going on with you?" Dean's voice shook with fear much like Cas' vessel- body- did as he made his way to Dean's bed, his trench coat coming off as he did so. Dean couldn't help but stare at the exposed skin of Cas' tan chest, made visible through the opening of the top of his wrinkled shirt, the undone buttons letting the fabric part oh so perfectly for Dean's greedy eyes. If someone were to ask later if the skin distracted Dean from Cas' distressed state he would deny it at all costs, but for a second or two all Dean knew was that his dick got harder and his eyes could not stop devouring the sight of Cas' collarbones and neck.

"I... I know what's wrong with me, Dean." Castiel whispered as he slowly lowered himself to the bed, turning a tear-streaked face to Dean's worried eyes, hands fidgeting minutely in his lap. Dean's hunter instincts took that as a sign of Cas' nervousness. "I suspected it as an angel but dismissed it because... Because angels can't feel right?" He laughed softly; coldly, before continuing. "Oh, how I wish that were true... I'm just not sure if it's wrong with you, too. See, angels' emotions aren't nonexistent, they're just muted."

"Cas, what are you saying?" Dean's voice was far too quiet for him to mask the raw emotion coursing through him at Cas' breakdown. It was too, too much to see his love in such shambles. Cas continued as though Dean had never spoken. Dean supposed it was for the best that Cas didn't mention his too-revealing comment.

"It's to make us better fighters, soldiers, more alete than our too-emotional opponents that make up every other species and then some. Mindless, we- they- are. We can still feel things, though, if the emotion is strong enough to seep through the barriers we're programmed to have. Too much heart, I think, is what Samandriel called my weakness. But I believe instead my real flaw was not an overabundance of emotion but rather my lack of attempt at fending off such things. And so I felt it, Dean, even as an angel it hurt. And now I'm human, a-and-" Castiel let out a choked sob. "And it hurts so bad, Dean. I'm afraid I might kill myself. It hurts, it hurts, I can't go on. I don't know how to make it stop." By then, tears were steadily making their way down Cas' face, and a few were threatening to slip down Dean's cheeks, too.

"Cas... What's going on?" Dean pushed, softly. He'd gone pale when Castiel threatened to take his own life, and Castiel's body shook harder at Dean's voice.

"I've already packed my bags. I know I can't change this. Dean, I'm feeling love." Castiel gripped the sheets with white knuckles. "And it's for you." Cas lets out a pained sob and buried his head in his hands before promptly standing up and making his way to the door, his body racked with silent sobs. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry. I love you, I'm sorry." He closed the door and in an instant, Dean was standing, the sheet quickly wrapped and tied around his waist.

"Cas. Cas!" Dean calls, his voice breaking and lip trembling as he threw the door open it hit the wall with a loud slam, startling Castiel, the former angel whipping around to meet Dean's eyes. Dean grabbed Castiel's arm and turned him to look Dean in the eyes. "I love you too." And then Castiel was crying into Dean's shoulder, his hands knotted into Dean's hair and body pressed closer to Dean's than he thought possible.

Dean simply held the man, gently ushering him to his room and back onto the bed, quietly pushing Castiel to talk more since the conflict had been more or less resolved. After a few quiet words of comfort, Cas began to explain. It only hurt Dean more.

"I- I was going t-to drive off a cliff, Dean, or maybe take some pills, I don't know, just end it." If Dean's face could have gone any paler it would have, because he'd been hours, at most, from losing the love of his life because he was so damn blind and stupid. The wave of emotions that overtook Dean made the hunter question briefly who was in more pain between the two of them. Cas continued to speak. "It hurt so bad, oh Father, Dean, I was in so much unimaginable pain. Worse t-than Naomi, than Metatron. I would've rather died than lived with that feeling, that constant ache. I was hurting- loving- so badly." He explained through tears, Dean stroking his back comfortingly, tears spilling over his own eyes as he imagined those stunning azure eyes clouded over in death once again.

He hadn't imagined that Castiel didn't know how to push such emotions down like Dean had. Perhaps it made it easier for Castiel, to not be able to hide things, made it easier for others to recognize when he was hurting sooner and help him faster. But it also made him vulnerable, easy to use and throw away, and those thoughts just made Dean want to throw up. He didn't want to think about the offending conflicting emotions and thoughts anymore.

So he gently laid Castiel down onto the bed, and they fell asleep softly crying into one another while whispering words of reassurances to each other, and then, in the morning, not-so-softly moaning, a tangle of limbs and warmth they'd been starved of for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> DId you like it? If so, please comment and leave me your thoughts! If there are any tags I missed please let me know. If there's a prompt you'd like me to do please comment and I just may write about it! Thank you for reading.


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